My Russian Family

by Lilia Sariecheva

  Ivan used his few remaining hectares and his dwindling wealth to create a community farm and agricultural research station. The local peasants were usually too busy to work Ivan’s land so Ivan slowly gathered a small group of migratory farm workers who all too often were without employment.

  The Chernei family lived close to the land and nature and in harmony with the hired workers. They ate the same food at the same table and evenly divided the profits. They shared the mansion, with the Chernei’s living on the second floor and the peasants on the ground floor. The children all attended a local elementary school, except the smallest ones, and Lena became involved in the home teaching of these preschoolers. The highly educated Lena enjoyed it as she could utilize her many skills. It was all very democratic as everyone shared a busy and comfortable life.

  During the 1920s, the peasants were happy because they had land that provided a livelihood plus money left over for extras. Ivan was just happy that he had a good life with his loving family. It was an unstable period but these small well-managed plots gave fine yields which brought good times for these peasants and they were generally content. The 1920s was a time when the peasants closed ranks as economic differences between them dwindled and they identified with their own past, not with the vision of the Central Communist Committee.

  Lena and Ivan’s three daughters enjoyed a happy childhood at this former Chernei Estate. The exact location of this estate within Novgorod Province is unclear, however Vera and Marieka had probably been born farther north of it in the town of Rochmazhy which is located between the cities of Malaya Vishera and Bolshaya Vishera. It is not certain where the younger Shurra was born. The girl’s passports listed their place of birth but the accuracy of these passports is questionable. The new government forbade royal titles, so the three Chernei girls could never claim the title of princess.

  The small town of Rochmazhy was just a large village of perhaps 200 houses. Located just outside of this was a beautiful Chernei summer home where Vera and Marieka were likely born. This building was confiscated by the communists. During early World War II, it was used as a local staff headquarters for the Red Army and the German Luftwaffe demolished it completely along with the occupants.

  The Chernei estate included an enormous white storybook-like mansion with marble columns, a huge lake, and groves of beautiful white birches. This particular copse of birch trees became imbedded in my mother Mareika’s childhood memories of a loving family and a period in her past that brought her the most comfort during her subsequent trials and tribulations.

  The white birch is the national tree. A symbol of Russia, it is widely cherished there. Occasionally, Russians call it the Russian birch to denote their passionate feelings. Their affection for the birch tree involves admiration for its multiple uses. The smooth, resinous young bark, which may be varicolored or white, peels off in thin sheets. On older trees it becomes thick and the deeply furrowed bark breaks in irregularly shaped plates. The bark is used in making shoes, canoes, and in starting camp fires because it burns when it is wet. Ancient chroniclers used the thin supple bark of young birch trees to write on. The tree sap fermented through Krebs citric acid cycle yields a reasonably good beer. As the birch has a reputation for being hardy, quick growing, and relatively immune to disease and insect attack, it is widely used in reforestation, erosion control, and as protective plant cover. Some varieties can reach heights of 30 meters (100 feet).

  Russian Birch Trees.

  As an eight-year-old, Mareika, my mama, loved walking through these groves of birches. It made her senses come alive and she felt as one with nature. The special smells and sounds were like Mother Nature revealing her secrets. On one particular morning walk a frightening thing happened. It was autumn of 1930 and a chill was in the air so she dressed warmly when she went out. As she walked, she liked to look up at the patterns of the birch branches against the sky. Suddenly she felt a danger and looked down. The fear-center in the brain that is hardwired to the eyes gave her just a split second to react, and then she froze.

  Many slithering snakes were all over the ground by her feet, coiled into moving balls. In a strange moment of calm, she briefly wondered why she was not bitten and how soon she would die. Then, the panic came. She started screaming and bolted for home, still surprised that she had no snakebites. Her screams alerted the household and they quickly rallied to her. Trying to make sense of this, the estate groundskeeper pointed out that it was close to Snake Day, a time when snakes in Russia hibernate during the ferocious winter. Possibly Mareika had been walking by an entrance to a hibernation den. A protective den is hard to find, and the temperature and humidity must be stable during the winter months or the snake will die. Many snakes, generation after generation, use the same functional den. Someone else pointed out that a snake’s body temperature depends upon the environment, so on a cold morning snakes don’t move very fast. This is probably why none of the snakes bit Mareika. She was very scared and all this information did little to reassure or comfort her.

  Everyone was worried about Mareika and the cook even made her some of her favorite perozhki. That afternoon, Mareika stepped outside to enjoy in the weak fall sunshine. Nearby was a low fence of wooden boards supported every few meters with square columns of brick that provided a handy seat for a young girl recovering from a trauma. Mareika was sitting on one of the columns devouring her snack when she saw a stranger. A slender, aged Gypsy woman came up from the main road and approached the eight-year-old. Mareika gave a neighborly nod of her blond head and silently offered a perozhki.

  The Gypsy accepted it with a smile and said, “You have such a beautiful dress. Why are you sitting on the fence like a boy? You will damage it if you are not careful.” She paused to eat the girl’s gift, then continued, “Your perozhki are beautiful and taste excellent! May I have another?”

  Mareika remained silent in front of the imposing stranger, but she held out another perozhki. The Gypsy touched Mareika’s fingers as she took it, then she frowned, looked around and stared directly into Mareika’s eyes. “Look, girl,” she said. “Soon there will be a disaster here, a big one! Take me seriously, it is coming! You and your family had better leave this place!”

  At that, the colorful, gaily-dressed Gypsy left, striding rapidly through the old grass and dead leaves littering the ground, as she navigated past the birch trees and back toward the main road. Mareika, already traumatized by the snakes, trembled at this frightening news as she stared at the retreating Gypsy through the birch trees. The events of this very unusual day became wired forever into her memory.

  Her mind wandered as she gazed idly at the wondrous trees. It was like a life raft to the young girl to redirect all her thoughts to the birch trees and shut out everything else. The trees made her feel peaceful and happy. When she became an adult and she thought about her lost adolescence, she would always retreat to this picture in her mind of that forest of birches beside the lake, and she thought about her beloved family and her happy childhood in her Mother Russia.

  15. Two Ivan Princes

  Lena vividly remembered that frosty late December night in 1930. Loud menacing noises in their mansion abruptly awoke her, Ivan, and their three daughters.

  Armed men wearing leather coats and cruel faces entered their bedroom and told Ivan that he had to go with them immediately. Ivan was hustled from his home and castle, wearing only what he had on at the time. Lena’s instinct told her that she and her daughters would suffer the same fate. Rumors abounded that this had happened many times. However, instead of arresting them, the men interrogated Lena and then ejected her and her three daughters from the house and into the snow.

  It was the middle of the night, it was snowing and they wore only nightgowns, slippers, and bathrobes. Lena managed to grab a blanket and her 12-year-old daughter Vera clutched a tablecloth to use as a shawl. Eight-year-old Mareika comforted her youngest sister, three-year-old Shurra. The peasants who shared the mansion remained silent and did not
lift a finger to help the family. Nobody could protect Lena and her children. Either out of hatred of the aristocracy or fear of retribution by authorities, nobody would help them. Lena and her girls walked many kilometers that night to the small local town.

  Stalin’s terror was in full swing as he confiscated land to create his huge collective farms. Not only Ivan and Lena, but most of the nearby peasants also had their land confiscated and the richer and stronger ones were arrested and never returned. Lena did not know what happened to her husband. There was no information, no home, no support, and no hope. How could they survive this unbelievable nightmare? Prepare to die?

  No jobs were available to young women. What kind of work could she do? Her singing and piano skills were not in demand. The young Soviet Republic needed workers with various qualifications and engineers to build its industrial complex. However, what could Lena do with three kids in hand? How would she feed them? The situation became even more difficult a couple of months later when Lena realized that she was pregnant with her fourth child.

  When a little boy was born, Lena named him Ivan in honor of her husband who she felt would not return. Ivan the second was blond, very quiet, and he had inherited his mom’s pale blue eyes. As she was nursing her little son and watching him enjoy himself her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my poor son, you’ll never see your daddy. I’ll never see him either. Maybe you will be happy since you look just like me, not like your father.” In Russia it was believed that good fortune followed a boy who looked like his mom or a girl who looked like her dad.

  Lena knew absolutely nothing about her husband’s fate. Ivan, the prince and former general, had completely disappeared, sucked into the vacuum of the infamous Gulag Archipelago. She assumed that there was the typical long and cruel detention with harsh interrogations and a mock trial. The next step would be transport on a train along with numerous other prisoners and convicts bound for Siberia and then a prison camp.

  Some ten years later, a kindly survivor of a Siberia Labor Camp searched out Lena and told her he was an eyewitness to her husband’s death. He related the following story as he saw it through the open door of a boxcar that he had shared with her husband. The train had stopped for fuel at a small, dilapidated village station. The guards cracked open the boxcar doors to throw in a few loaves of bread for the convicts. Ivan asked a guard to let him get some water. He pointed his finger at a water faucet on the wall of the train station, which traditionally yielded hot water for travelers. Ivan explained, “One man has a bad fever and is delirious. Let me get some water for him, please. I’m afraid that he’s not going to survive without water.”

  The guard swore at Ivan and then warned him, “Shut up, damn you, and get the hell back!”

  Ivan was not easily frightened and continued pleading, “It’s only about five meters to the tap. I’m not going to escape.” Instantly, Ivan jumped from the boxcar to the ground and took a few steps toward the water with a pot in his hand. The crucial water was close, but the bullet was quick and it hit his leg. He fell to his knees as the second bullet entered his back.

  Dying, Ivan didn’t know that his son was born. He also did not know that his son would die at exactly the same age of 54. Ivan would never know the dire destiny that was waiting for his infant boy in the future.

  Later, a different ex-prisoner contacted Lena and offered another version. Prison is always full of rumors and so much the better if it involves a prince who was a general. This version had it that Ivan recovered from the bullets and actually died later on in another Siberian Labor Camp. The former prisoner could not elaborate with any further information.

  Lena was never to know for certain when or where or how or even why her beloved husband and best friend had crossed over to the other world.

  These chapters encompass virtually everything that I know about my maternal grandparents. I’m thankful for what little information I have. Yet, what I do not know about them staggers me. I don’t even know their full names or where they were born.

  My Grandmother Lena’s death preceded my birth by almost ten years, yet she and I share many things including an intense love for each other.

  PART TWO

  The Middle Generation

  Seeking the Light of a Faraway Star

  Literal translation:

  A bird may be known by its flight.

  Meaning:

  Your actions reveal your character.

  My Father Mikhail

  Literal translation:

  Whatever the consequences can be—I’ll try it!

  Meaning:

  Go for broke!

  16. The Village

  A SMALL VILLAGE NAMED ARSCENT’EVO LIES NEAR THE ancient city of Ryazan. This is where my dad was born. It was a peaceful place near large fields and dense forests. A small river flowed nearby providing water for the fertile area.

  A group of five extended families lived in some 15 houses connected by a dirt road. These homes bordered a large pond fed by the crystal clear water of three natural springs. The pond was like a huge eye looking at the heavens with birch trees on one side providing the eyelashes.

  Two large log barns were shared; one for livestock, mostly horses, and one for seed, farm supplies, and equipment. They also shared a few hand-dug water wells which provided clean water. A community clothes-washing facility was the gossip center. The Chinese written character for gossip is three women standing by a water well-quite a logical choice. Looking toward the river from the village one could see the flour mill nestled beside the river like a giant, fishing in the water. The wives joked, “Eat more fish and you will grow huge like that giant.”

  The newly sown fields would start out light green, turn to a brown, then to a dull yellow as the wheat, barley, oats, and rye slowly matured and ripened. Decorating the fields were smaller patches of sugar beets with dark green tops, golden umber stalks of flax, and the brilliant yellow of sunflowers.

  The forest was green and alive and, at the same time, dark and mysterious. The mighty oak, stately spruce, and wondrous birch trees dominated the landscape and provided protection for an ancient and highly efficient eco-system of smaller plants, microorganisms, bugs, birds, and animals. Of special interest to the villagers were the mushrooms, berries, and assorted herbs and medicinal plants.

  The peasants lived in harmony with their environment, sharing songs, antidotes, fables, and legends. Russian children are familiar with the friendly but timid hare, the sly and clever fox, the angry, greedy and dumb wolf, and the strong, naive bear. Animal names given to people during ancient times was somewhat like the Native North American Indian custom where newborns earned their name by their actions. One can be sure that every animal in Russia has someone named after it. Today, one can find Russian last names made from words like cat, hen, hare, fox, wolf, cow, horse, tail, fly, fish, carp, flower, birch, birdwing, dove, goose, duck, eagle, hawk, and so on. Some of these names go back thousands of years. Some names were for honor, courage, hope, wisdom, and the four cardinal virtues: justice, prudence, temperance, and fortitude. All possible names seemed represented, even some not quite so honorable such as the Seven Deadly Sins: pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth.

  The Arscent’evo houses in springtime appeared to be drowning in the white foam of cherry, apple, and plum blossoms. The odor could intoxicate one’s senses. Beads of green, red, and black berries decorated summer’s gorgeous green gown.

  The kitchen garden behind each home was a village of vegetable citizens. The corn ears listened to the thunder of butterfly wings; the heads of cabbage looked around curiously and happily; the tomatoes’ cheeks blushed a healthy red; the beets, turnips, and radishes admired the emerald cucumbers. Onions, garlic, and potatoes slept soundly in their cozy underground homes waiting for the autumn convention.

  The land sloped gently toward the river and there were springs and small ponds on the high side. It was dry-land farming with no irrigation, but the rich soil did not usually requi
re extra water. Seeds planted in the fall drank the moisture from the snow pack. Spring planting allowed a later harvest with infrequent summer showers providing the moisture for excellent yields. It worked quite well except for the occasional drought years.

  Hens, geese, goats, and cows happily provided eggs, milk, and butter. In good years, the cornucopia overflowed. Pollution, traffic gridlock, road rage, drugs, crime, suicide, elder abuse, bankruptcy, identify theft, gambling addiction, serial killers, obesity, spam, and a raft of other social ills were unknown.

  The people lived a comfortable life. They did not expect much and were happy with what they had. They helped each other and looked out for each other. It was like a large friendly family. There were celebrations for the good things that happened and a sharing of the bad things to ease the pain. The tight-knit group typically kept few secrets. They were not bored because there was always something to do and people enjoyed conversation. They were close to nature and almost never lost their temper or became involved in a fight. The only exception was the occasional marital disagreements, which were mild. Drinking was only at large dinners or feasts. The largest yearly party and the one best remembered was the Trinity religious holiday, which the communists never tried to suppress. The lives of peasants changed very little for hundreds and hundreds of years.

  The people in these villages worked hard and lived a lusty life close to nature. They generally ate well and slept well, thanks to a hard day’s work. They stayed remarkably healthy, both physically and mentally. Birth defects were unheard of and chronic health problems like allergies were unknown. These citizens were self-reliant, logical, and dependable, and their problems were the good kind-solvable with friends and a little horse sense. Evenings included visits to neighbors, conversations and the sharing of ideas. Parents worked with their hands in the evenings as they talked, making or repairing things and sharing their skills. The northern summer nights were short and their days began at three a.m.